The violence of the collision nearly threw him backwards, and caused him to swerve as he sprang. There was a photo of her that looked exactly like you. I was forced to lay on a bed of nails for three days. No, don’t let me call myself that. One realized indeed then where the differences lay; the tender curves about Anna’s mouth transformed into hard sharp lines in Annabel’s, the eyes of one, truthful and frank, the other’s more beautiful but with less expression—windows lit with dazzling light, but through which one saw—nothing.
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